


The Itsy Bitsy Spider...

by stads02



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Identity Reveal, Michelle doesn't take no Parker "Stark Internship" lies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 18:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11583423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stads02/pseuds/stads02
Summary: Post-Homecoming. Keeping up a secret identity is hard and Peter's just trying to not put his foot in his mouth or like, die because then Aunt May would definitely ground him for at least a month.(Peter/Michelle (MJ))





	The Itsy Bitsy Spider...

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo everybody! This is rated Teen, but there's still some swearing. I imagine though everybody's heard these kinds of words before they were 13 though so...hopefully...it will be...okay. That and I don't know anything from the comics so I'll try not to horribly sin by just following Homecoming and going a bit AU so let's see how this cookie crumbles. On that note, enjoy!

 

“What the _fuck?_ ”

“Uh-” his mind blanks, “I’m into cosplay!”

Peter stares at his aunt already questioning why his mouth would betray him with the low quality lie it has. A four year old could have probably made a better job lying to his aunt that what he just tried.

“Surprise?”

He should stop talking.

Aunt May stares back at him. Her mouth is open and his mind briefly wanders and wonders if he could pass a golf ball through without hitting a single tooth. Probably.

It seems like eons until she even moves from her open mouthed, wide-eyed position as her face morphs from pure confusion to a kind of angered understanding. He waits until she makes her move.

It’s like they’re not human and now are wild animals in the jungle. She’s the prime lion and he’s …he’s probably her next meal and a sad little pheasant or some stupid bird.

“ _Tony fucking Stark.”_

She looks ready to kill.

“May-”

“Phone. Now.”

He winces and pulls his phone off his desk.

_Bing!_

 

 **_CHAIR-MAN NED: 2:43  
_ ** _Did you get the suit back?_

 **_CHAIR-MAN NED: 2:43  
_ ** _Don’t leave me hanging_

 **_CHAIR-MAN NED: 2:43  
_ ** _Ayyyyy hanging –get it?_

 **_CHAIR-MAN NED: 2:44  
_ ** _You gotta fill me in on happened!!_

“Uh,”

“Ned’s in on this as well?” she pauses, looking at his phone. He wants to be Tony Stark in the Iron Man suit so he can blast his incriminating phone into smithereens.

“Um,”

He cringes as he hears another ding of a message notification.

“And who’s Michelle? Am I the only one in the dark?”

“No! She’s on the decathlon team. She -she doesn't know.”

His answer doesn’t seem to matter. May’s scrolling through his phone now and judging from her muttering she’s found Mr. Stark in his contacts.

May shouts into the phone the second Mr. Stark answers it.

Tony’s soon going to need ear surgery.

 

 

 

 

“You’ll never believe it.”

Peter looks to his left to see Ned with a grin on his face.

“Check it out!” Ned says, and holds up a small Lego minifigure. It’s Admiral Piett.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!” he gasps.

“Oh yes,” Ned nods his head quickly, “3152 pieces…”

“Almost fifty inches long,” Peter continues.

“La piece de resistance, the Executor Super Destroyer! I got it on Monday.”

“Ages sixteen and over?”

“You know it!”

“You guys are losers.”

Peter closes his locker. Michelle isn’t even looking up from her book. She slowly licks her thumb, then turns the page of her book. It’s a super old one. He’s pretty sure even without his super senses he could smell the mustiness of the pages from where he is.

“Your…face…is a loser,” he shoots back. Nice.

He actually gets a response of a quick upturned eyebrow before, “Whatever. Get to class, losers. You’ll be loser-late.”

She walks off and Peter looks over at Ned, “ _Can_ you be loser-late? What even is being loser-late?”

“I’m going to guess, it’s a loser who’s late to class?”

“Well then she’s a…” he tries to think of an adjective that begins with L.

None of them are mean though.

Ned sighs.

 

 

 

“See Ned, I told you! Those are the wrong type of stitches!”

They’re in the library waiting for the other members of the decathlon and hovering over Ned’s laptop.

“I was panicking!” He defends himself, “How was I supposed to know those were the wrong type of stitches? I thought you could deal with this stuff anyways!”

“Yeah but,” Peter lifts his shirt.

It looks a lot better than last night which is hardly saying something. Turns out that even for him, getting pierced by a piece of rebar is really stretching his limits of I-don’t-need-a-hospital. That and even though May knows, he’s not going to go to her when he’s injured that badly. She’s been pretty cool about it but Peter knows her limits. Bumps and bruises and ice packs are cool. Bleeding and stitches are not. At worst she’ll take his suit away until he gets better. At best she’ll give Tony Stark a few choice words and the next day he’s going to be getting a talk on top of a skyscraper about responsibility and safety.

Either way, it means that his clumsy work with a needle is going to have to get better. Fast.

The dried blood and messy needlework going in and out of his skin is testament to that.

“Dude.”

Peter grimaces at his friend, “It’s fine.”

“Okay, either you’re into _really_ niche kink, or you like getting treated by drunk doctors.”

Peter drops his shirt.

Michelle is holding on her bag with one hand and the other is on her waist. He stops for a second. If he thinks about it, it’s a pretty thin one. Huh.

“It’s fake. For a play. The –its makeup.”

“He does acting. It’s a community theater!” Ned bails him out.

“Let me guess. You’re going to be Julius Caesar.” Michelle sighs and sits down on the chair across from them.

He gulps.

“It’s not my style to be concerned with utterly hopeless losers but,” she pauses, “If you’re going to be in a Fight Club the least you can do is know which suture to use. Continuous is best for quick fixes.”

Peter gawks.

“What? My mom’s a nurse.”

 

 

 

She plops down next to him in the cafeteria the next day and he automatically shies away. It’s their unspoken harmony. The smart-but-weird-kid table in the cafeteria goes to Peter, Michelle, and Ned. Peter and Ned sit on one end, Michelle with her books and tea on the other.

“Hey.”

Peter chews on his sandwich.

“I was wondering, how comfy is spandex?”

He nearly spits out the ham and cheese.

“What?”

He darts and glance at Ned. Ned glances back and him and gulps.

“Oh you know, I’m thinking about becoming a superhero,” she says conversationally, “Since you guys have the biggest hard-ons for Spider-man, and since you personally know him, I figured I’d ask.”

“I wouldn’t know?” Peter manages, “I never talk about the suit –well- _he_ never talks about the suit. I do. He just doesn’t answer. Secret stuff. Spider-man is very, uh, secretive. I don’t think its spandex though. It’s uncomfortable –I _think_ it would be uncomfortable. If I wore it, that is.”

She shrugs, “Alright.”

Then she leaves, sipping on her tea with one hand and a book in the other.

 

 

 

It’s gym class and Peter’s soaking in the sun instead of playing soccer.

Ned’s next to him. He’s tinkering away with his watch that he broke four days ago and is trying to fix. Peter’s lying down on the metal bleachers and slowly becoming a cat.

If he were to become a cat, and have powers, would that make him Cat-Man? Maybe if he were bitten by a radioactive cat. Would he then be like the Black Panther? Would he still be as enhanced? He usually loves having his senses dialed to a ten as Peter Parker. He can hear funny conversations from across the hallways. He can smell flowers, like actually smell them. Like he can right now.  In fact there’s a hint of vanilla too. He definitely-

His shirt is pushed up to his rib cage and he sits up.

“What are you doing!???”

His voice cracks.

Michelle actually almost laughs.

“What are you doing?” he cries again, forcing his voice low and normal and pulls his shirt back down.

How did he not Spidey-sense that?

“What are _you_ doing?” she replies, “Are you part of a new medical study? It would definitely explain all the class you miss if you’re shooting up on some non-government approved drugs.”

“No! Why would you-”

“Your stitches are gone.”

“What?”

“Your stitches.”

She looks down to where he’s still holding onto his shirt and keeping it down as if she molested him or something. But she didn’t and he stops holding on the shirt. Did she see anything else but the stitches? He hopes so. Swinging around combined with a metabolism that’s through the roof and then the one above it -May has noticed the change in their food bill- has gotten his body, well, looking like some of guys in a GQ magazine. And he’s been trying to work out when he’s not patrolling around Queens. Maybe she noticed. Why does he want her to notice?

“What?”

“Your stitches are gone,” she waves her hand in front of his face. It’s the third time she’s said it.

He blinks.

The rebar! Right.

“Uh, yes. They are. Gone. The stitches are gone.”

He took them out yesterday. Turns out he can heal from getting metal in his side in four days. Without a scar too.

“Why?”

“I didn’t need them anymore?”

Ned kicks him.

Ned shakes his head.

“Oh look!” he points at the field, “I think he just heard Coach Wilson calling me.”

Michelle stands to stop him, “Peter-”

“Got to go!”

 

 

 

“She knows, Ned. She _knows._ ”

“We don’t know that.”

“Maybe she knows that we know that she might know something.”

“Sure,” Ned sighs then goes back to his physics homework.

Peter takes another bite out of his burger, trying to covertly stare at Michelle down the table, “She’s got to know something. Just look Ned. Look!”

Ned looks, “She’s reading?”

“Exactly!”

“She always reads.”

“She’s trying to throw us off. Acting like everything’s normal.”

Ned goes back to his homework.

Michelle looks up from her book and they make eye contact and he snaps back to his meal.

“Hey, Parker.”

“What?” he feigns innocence like he wasn’t watching her this whole lunch.

She flips him off.

He wants to ask her why, what he did to deserve it but she’s already back to reading.

Fine.

 

 

 

He watches her carefully over the next week.

It’s not like he’s avoiding her though. Because they’re not friends. Not really.

She’s like that fringe friend in movies that everybody acknowledges and fits in the group but apart from that is hard to read. They say that in the Avengers, the Black Widow is like that. At least Tony does. Tony also says never to get on Natasha’s bad side. Peter gets the feeling that he looks at Michelle the same way Tony looks at Natasha. Beause Tony and Natasha are teammates and he and Michelle are also teammates. That’s the extent of their knowing of each other.

But even if he’s keeping his carefully selected distance from her, decathlon practice smashes his carefully concocted plan of not talking to her out of the park.

He _has_ to see her. Speak with her. Converse and pretend that she’s not probably covertly investigating him. She’s sneaky like that.

Michelle’s sitting on a table, with her feet on the chair and has a stack of cards with her.

“What is ancraophobia?”

Flash reaches for his buzzer.

_Ding!_

“Flash?”

“It’s the fear of heights.”

“That is…” she pauses for effect, “Incorrect. Fear of heights is _acro_ phobia. Anybody else?”

“Fear of spiders?” Betty tries.

“No,” Michelle says, “But I’m sure Peter knows a lot about that one.”

His head snaps to her.

Flash hoots and leans back in his chair, “Really, Parker? You’re afraid of little spiders?” he huffs, “What a loser.”

“Peter?” Michelle asks, “Do you know the right answer?”

“Yeah,” he blinks, “its fear of heavy winds.”

“That is…correct.”

“And I’m not afraid of spiders.”

She flips the last card onto the ground where there’s already a pile. Her whole body language exudes that she doesn’t care but her small smile, a smirk really, gives her away.

“Alright, what is the correct equation for the calculus rule known as the quotient rule?”

She doesn’t care, he tells himself.

She’s just making fun of him.

Michelle winks at him and he nearly falls off his seat.

 

 

 

Don’t get him wrong he does love all the perks of becoming Spider-man.

But when its gym class and they’re doing another bout fitness testing and he can smell Flash Thompson’s new bottle of Axe body spray, that's when he appreciates it less. Flash is across the gym. It’s hitting him like a tsunami.

He looks to the bleachers. His eyes are watering from the Eau-de-Flash but he feels a hollow. There’s still a group of girls on the bleachers. They’re all around a phone, commenting on somebody’s Instagram probably. Liz isn’t there though.

“C’mon,” Ned pulls him from his guilt.

Peter exhales and drops to his knees on the blue gym mat. Ned gets his stopwatch ready.

Peter turns to Ned, “Twenty a minute? That’s kind of low, right?”

Ned shrugs, “Go for nineteen. Last year you did nineteen.”

Peter nods and preps himself for a minute of horrible push-ups.

Ned starts the watch.

Peter pretends to struggle.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Michelle meander over, not doing her fitness testing, and sit down right in front of him just as he’s trying to put a face on that shows pure torture of push-up number fourteen.

“Hi Ned. What’s up?”

“Peter’s doing his fitness testing. Push-ups.”

“Huh,” Michelle says and he can feel his eyes on her as he does number fifteen.

“He’s going for a record,” Ned says, “Maybe he can do twenty.”

“I sure hope he can if he’s swinging around Queens every afternoon.”

He falls flat on his nose.

“What?”

“I mean, Spider-man better be stronger than twenty push-ups a minute otherwise I’d be worried. Who’d want a hero to save them if he can’t even do that?”

He lies on the mat staring off into the wall questioning his options.

Maybe he can shrivel up and die, just like a spider.

“C’mon Parker,” Coach Wilson says as he walks by, “Push hard. Achieve your potential.”

Michelle waits until Coach walks by, “Yeah Peter, achieve your potential.”

He tries to formulate words.

“Oh,” she looks around, “Was it supposed to be a secret? Okay. Sorry. My bad. It’s a secret.”

 

 

 

Peter waits for her after gym.

He’s been doing enough counter-spying of his own on Michelle to spur on another Cold War.

Peter knows that it’s a Wednesday and on Wednesdays she goes home on her crappy turquoise bike. On Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays she’d be using the subway to head to her part time job at _Books and Bestsellers_ that she works late at, but it’s a Wednesday and she’s not escaping him.

He tells Ned to wait near the gates of the school as back up. In case she climbs out of the girls change room window or something.

But she doesn’t.

Instead she walks out of the change room back in her usual tight dark jeans and hodge-podge of whatever she feels like wearing on her top and he’s smiling _wayyyy_ too brightly and pulling her away from the lockers into the gym.

It’s a perfect place.

Casual enough so that if anybody sees them talking it doesn’t look weird. Big enough so that if any other said person comes in they’re going to be too far away to hear what they’re saying. He’s thought this through.

They sit down on the edge of the stage.

“So is this going to be when you insist that you’re not Spider-man and make up some horrible excuse?”

“No.”

“So you’re admitting to being Spider-man.”

“ _No!_ I was saying that my excuses aren’t bad.”

“Yes, Peter, they are. Terrible.”

“I’m not Spider-man.”

“Yes you are," she deadpans.

“I’m not!”

“I’ll prove it.”

Then she pushes him off the stage.

They’re not high. It’s only a couple feet up from the gym floor, butit doesn’t matter. He’s standing up after neatly rolling from his fall. He couldn't do that ten months ago. Ten months ago he would have fallen flat on his face like she planned.

“So either you’re a drug dealing undercover gymnast, or you’re Spider-man.”

He sighs and feels like a balloon. One that’s been released and screamed around a room before resting sadly on the floor out of air.

“Is there any way that I can convince you that I’m not?”

“Nope.”

Her smile is feral.

 

 

 

It goes like this.

They don’t talk about it.

What is there to talk about?

_Oh hey Michelle, now that you know I'm Spider-man, guess how many push-ups I can actually do in one minute?_

If he pulled that shit he'd probably get whacked in the head before his Spidey-senses told him about it.

His final resort is to then use Ned like an actual and emotional human shield to avoid her.

And she doesn’t go after him. No series of questions or interrogations.

Just normal...Michelle.

Its weirding him out.

 

 

 

He gets stabbed in the shoulder after a pretty hefty B&E of a house he just happened to be passing by and May finds out. Ned tries to assure him that at least he actually can properly heal up while May’s taken away his suit until he’s better. He gets her rule that he has to be okay before helping others but he still wants to go out and feel the wind against his face and the exhilaration of being Spider-man.

Peter’s just dandy – _perfectly. fine._ \- moping around for the next two days which is when he guesses that his left shoulder will be just fine.

Until Aunt May kicks him out and tells him to go to a party that Flash is hosting that Friday and that he’s only getting the suit back if he goes out and does things that normal teenagers are supposed to do.

Ned The Traitor has given her the 411 on all of this.

 

 

 

He’s at the party.

Alone.

Ned’s nerding with some other guy that Peter doesn’t want to talk to because said dude thinks Spider-man is lame. He's also still sore about Ned helping May coerce him to this party.

“You look like a loser, loser.”

He looks up to see Michelle. She’s a sight, with bottle of white wine in her hand a book by Earnest Hemmingway in the other.

He cocks his head.

“I’m not reading Earnest Hemmingway sober. He doesn’t deserve my attention like that.”

“I didn’t think you…”

“Drink?” she asks.

“Didn’t like Earnest Hemmingway.”

She sighs and takes a tiny sip from the bottle that’s already a third gone.

“What?”

She shakes her head and sits down next to him on the couch, “You’re stupid.”

“Thanks,” he says dryly.

They sit in a comfortable silence. He stares at a wall and stews at Ned. She reads her book and mutters under her breath. 

Peter jumps when air horns fill the house and the voice of a slightly tipsy Flash fills his house, “Hey everybody, you having a good time?”

Most of the house’s occupants answer back with hollers and hoots.

“That’s great, but you know I think I better give a shout out to my good pal, Penis –oh sorry, _Peter_ Parker.”

Another air horn as people turn their way.

“Gotta give it to him. He’s can only try to get a girl who’s already drinking! But hey, hey, don’t laugh everybody! A man’s gotta try his best am I right?”

He glances at Michelle.

She’s calmly _reading_.

He’s about to melt and die from sheer embarrassment. A socially awkward Wicked Witch of the West.

She takes another sip of her wine.

“Alright alright alirghhtt,” Flash slurs, “Also tonight there’s a beer pong tournament. Winner gets a premium bottle of Grey Goose.”

Flash drops the mic and three more air horns shout through the music.

Peter leaves.

 

 

 

Peter looks up from his spot in the small bathroom upstairs.

His game of Fruit Ninja dies. 

“Michelle?”

“There you are. I thought you’d left.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Maybe a bit,” she replies. Even drunk she’s still calm and monotone.

“Why are you here?”

“Cause.”

He shakes his head, “Just tell Ned I’m here when he wants to leave.”

“Oh no,” she tries to pull him up.

He’s not going to co-operate.

“Get up.”

“No.”

She yanks on his left arm with all her might and his shoulder still hurts so he lets her pull him to his feet.

“I want to win and you’re my best bet.”

“Win what?”

“The pong tournament. I want to win.”

“But the prize is vodka.”

“It’s expensive,” she replies plainly, “And you can humiliate Flash,” she adds.

“No,” he scowls.

 _With great power comes great responsibility..._  

She raises an eyebrow.

“I can’t. I won’t.”

 

 

 

He giggles and Michelle giggles and they’re both giggling as they Cha-Cha _real_ smooth.

He’s having the time of his life.

Correction; _they’re_ having the time of their life.

They’ve just won themselves the semi-finals and are going to go against Flash and one of his friends for the title of Ultimate Midtown Pongers.

Peter steps back from the ping pong table and lets some other guys reset the cups and fill them with beer and grins at Michelle. They’re almost ultimate victors.

“Told ya you were my best bet,” she replies to his smug smile.

Peter’s gotta admit she was smart. She trash talks and sinks some great shots. He’s just sinking every single shot like he can’t miss.

“That’s cause I’m awesome.”

He wraps his hand around her waist loosely to pull her in for some pre-game trash talking and assesses Flash and the other kid across the table.

He smiles dopily, “I think that Flash is supposed to be lookin real scary but he isn’t,” Peter still has enough of mind to whisper though, “I got stabbed two days ago. I’ve faced Captain America.”

Michelle watches him.

He figures it’s time that they really break the ice on the whole Peter Parker Is Spider-man thing because if she isn't gonna bring it up then he will. And maybe he’s a bit bolder after a few beers. 

Okay scratch that, probably half a keg of beer.

Turns out his metabolism is really on overdrive. Six beers and he doesn’t feel a thing. It takes him another round of six and a couple victory shots of _something_  before he even gets buzzed. Then he doesn’t want Michelle drinking too much so he starts taking her cups in beer pong. Cause cheating is bad and somebody gotta drink the cup when your opponent scores. Plus like, he doesn't feel  _that_ wasted so he can keep on going, right? 

Many drinks later he’s Spider-man _and_ Peter Parker.

Bold  _and_ smart.

Best of both worlds. He’s on some Hannah Montana shit kind of level right now.

 

 

 

It's game time and he stares Flash in the eye and throws and wins first shot for their team.

Peter hands Michelle her ball. She nods. It's time to win this thing.

He throws the first one. It sinks perfectly into the foam.

She throws hers and it sinks into the one next to his.

They high five.

Flash and his buddy retaliate and get one in. Before Michelle can call elbows he’s already whisked the cup off the table and boom. It’s down the hatch. No biggie Michelle. We can take 'em. He proves it by throwing his next one and it’s a perfect shot. It hits one cup before landing in another.

“Two cups!” he yells gleefully as Michelle misses her shot.

She frowns.

“It’s okay,” he consoles.

He whispers it. Nobody else can know that it’s okay if she misses. Because only she knows that he really does have this.

Flash sinks another.

It’s now four cups to two.

He misses the next but Michelle, amazing and pong-master Michelle gets hers in.

Then the heathens known as Flash and Friend get two in and you know, it’s kind of close.

Then they miss theirs and he pulls her aside for a pep talk that they can do this and misses Flash and Friend sink both in.

They’ve…lost?

“ _REDEMPTION SHOT_!” Michelle thunders.

There’s fire in her eyes and Peter thinks that wow, that’s kind of hot.

Flash swears under his breath but tosses them back their ping-pongs and Michelle pulls him to the side.

Pep Talk 2.0 it is.

“You got this Peter.”

He focuses. They’ve got to win this.

“No, _you’ve_ got this, Michelle.” They stare at each other and it's like they have some telepathy and reassurance going on. No words necessary. They break and Michelle is calm as ever.

She sinks her redemption shot in like a queen of ice.

But then he misses his but it bounces back and it’s a trick shot.

His shot is for the win.

He looks to his partner.

Michelle nods back slowly and he turns around and puts his hand over his eyes.

He breathes deeply and behind the pleasant haze of alcohol he can _feel_ the party around him.

He can smell white wine and flowers with a hint of vanilla to his left that is Michelle. Even with his hand covering his eyes flashes of blue and green and pink of Flash's RGB LED strip lights on the ceiling make their way through the cracks of his fingers. He can hear the crunch of Doritos from across the house getting eaten. He tastes the aftertaste of the cheap beer in his mouth.

He’s Spider-man, and he throws the ball.

Over the noise of the Kygo remix playing and the din of people talking and dancing he hears the ping pong.

The soft sound of the ball hitting the beer is glorious and then his head rings as the noise level explodes because Peter Parker and Michelle Jones just won the Beer Pong Tournament on a redemption and trick shot combo.

He yells and pulls Michelle to him and it takes all of his focus not to squeeze her too hard or something.

He jumps and dances and laughs. She just smirks with more self-satisfaction than anything. Then he’s standing at the top of the steps in front of Flash’s pool, one hand in Michelle’s held up high in celebration.

Michelle looks freaking golden. He stops. How has he not realized that she actually has like, really perfect eyes? They're really pretty the way they shine with the pool lights nearby and the glow of the party. They’re like Bambi’s or a Victoria Secret Model. Maybe  _both_. 

“Here’s the prize, Penis Parker.”

The bottle is heavy, and if he wasn’t busy holding Michelle’s hand and the bottle in the other Peter would flip Flash off.

"Here," he hands it to her, "We're such a team. You saved us, Michelle."

"Call me MJ," she replies.

"Shit," he swears and places a mock hand on his chest, "Have I just been promoted to,  _friendship_ status?" he pauses, " _MJ?"_

"You're drunk. Don't get cocky."

"Too late," and then he really draws it out, "Mmmmmjjjjjjj"

"I revoke your MJ status."

"Nope. You can't do that, MJ. Can't take it back."

"We aren't friends anymore. Schoolmates. Acquaintances. Colleague. Associate if you stop right now."

"No take backs!" he calls out again and then Ned's coming up to them through the crowd.

Ned takes the Grey Goose from Michelle and holds it up in celebration.

"Open it!" he yells.

"No," Peter tries to take it from his friend's grasp and give it back to Michelle.

Flash takes advantage of the situation and grabs his microphone, " _Open it!"_

Everybody in house seems to cheer.

_"OPEN IT!"_

 

 

 

May likes to switch up the rules to his suit now for punishment for like, anything.

Getting wasted at a party is now grounds for another five days stuck as Peter Parker. 

No web-slinging, no robbery-stopping. No  _nothing._

On Monday Michelle cackles when she hears and then whips out her phone.

Since when did she have social media? Wasn’t she supposed to be one of those niche people? The ones who hate mainstream stuff and just uses their email and text?

“Check it out.”

He takes her phone and it’s a Facebook post from somebody he isn’t friends with, he doesn’t know, and doesn’t remember at the party either.

The post practically documents his rise to Peter “Pong” Parker.

 

 

 

The snow starts falling right after Halloween and like clockwork Ned gets sick with pneumonia.

He always gets sick with pneumonia when it gets seriously cold.

Peter’s left without his man in the chair on patrol and school isn’t any better. He's been stabbed now twice, but no Ned is like losing a limb.

In Chemistry they’ve just finished doing a pre-lab worksheet and there’s a sticker on the top of his page.

He reads it.

_Congratulations! You suck._

Where does she even find stickers like these? Does she specially order them or something?

Michelle slides on the stool next to him.

“When you’re done, get the Nitric acid.”

“I didn’t know we were lab partners..?”

“We are now.”

She flicks him on the forehead and he flicks her back in the arm.

“Hurry up and finish your worksheet.”

He can’t protest because she pulls out a book and ignores him until he's done and then that’s that.

 

 

 

Ned’s back next week and it feels good to have his best friend again.

But he feels a different kind of contented to get his marked Chemistry lab back. It reads _Lab Partners: Michelle and Peter_ on the sheet.

When nobody’s looking he scratches out the Michelle and replaces it with MJ.

His mind also scratches out the  _Lab_ part so it just says  _Partners_.

He likes how it looks like that.

She's not just Michelle Jones that savagely roasts him on no actual grounds at decathlon practice. She's MJ the light-protester and Snark Master 3000 that can beat him at Scrabble and will sit you down to debate ethics and books for an afternoon if you'd let her.

His stomach feels warm as he realizes that maybe...maybe he likes knowing all these cool things about her.

**Author's Note:**

> considering how much of a dork Peter is he'd probably write the MJ part with a heart-dot for the j too if he wasn't careful. but one can only speculate :)


End file.
